


Vindictive

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Stabdad (Integrated Worlds) [10]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Mention of Past Abuse, Stabdad AU, im so fucking tired right now sorry, integrated worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 13:28:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Cronus finds something on the internet, Dave panicks, Jack fixes it.





	Vindictive

You slam the door behind you and just fucking _run_. 

_Damn, there's a lot of Dawve Striders that come up on a websearch...humans are fuckin' vwierd, using the same name this many times._

Why the hell was Cronus at Jack's house anyway? You barely fucking know the guy, okay, even if he's basically Dirk and Hal's brother at this point you've never really hung around him. He's older than you by a couple years—fuck, no, by like a sweep. Different planet, different measurements of time. 

Different measurements of distance too? How the fuck are you gonna judge how far you get from home? At what point are you gonna decide that it's time to stop? 

Not yet. Your chest hurts but not bad enough to make you slow down; keep going. 

_Vwait, vwe can add in more shit and see vwhat comes up; that vworked vwith Hal. You vwould not_ believwe _howv many times he got mentioned in police reports last time they vwent to earth...I'm still pissed I missed out on that shit._

God, why the hell didn't you distract him? Twenty fucking minutes, Dualscar woulda been done with talking to Jack if you'd kept Cronus out of trouble for twenty _fucking_ minutes. It should've been easy to find something to do, but no, you had to be fucking _awkward_ and _stupid_ and say oh yeah, sure, let's see what comes up when you run a fucking websearch on my name. Your dumb ass didn't think that was a goddamn problem. Your dumb ass thought it was an okay idea. 

Alright, your chest hurts worse now. 

_You're from...shit, vwhere vwas it? Dirk's told me before, and I keep forgetting._

Why did you give him the fucking name. Why. 

_Houston! That's it, cool._

It's funny, 'cause like. It's been a while. It's been more than a year since you saw your bro at all, let alone got treated to one of the videos he made and you sometimes ended up in and you _hated_ —god you didn't even let yourself know how much you hated them, not until Jack yoinked you out of that hellhole, because if you'd admitted how horrible Bro's shit was you woulda ended a strife by taking a dive off the edge of the fucking roof—it's been a long fucking time, okay, but y'know what? 

When Cronus clicked on the video, you recognized the synth backing track almost immediately. Bro taught you how to reproduce it on any decent mixing setup, after all...not that you ever would. He only ever used that shit for _specific_ videos, _your_ videos, and you never wanted to hear it again. Just fucking hearing the opening notes was enough to drive the air from your lungs, fill your chest up with panic and dread. 

You kind of think you broke his computer. You _know_ that you knocked it off the table; you vaguely remember the sound of something crunching as it hit the floor? By that point, though, you were running. 

And now you still are. Slower now, because you kind of can't actually breathe, but you also can't stop. You don't dare stop, even though some part of you is pointing out that this is stupid, there's no fucking reason to take off, you gotta go home at some point and you're acting like a fucking three-year-old and for the love of fuck you need to stop before you pass out you _dumbass_ —

"Hey. Kid. Dave." 

"Fuck—" Hearing your name actually gives you a second's burst of speed. Not very much speed; at this point you're just kind of forcing yourself to walk as fast as you can, panting and ignoring the fact that you still can't get a deep breath. God this sucks.

"It's just me, calm down." Jack doesn't try to speed up to walk beside you again, just waits for you to run out of that brief panic boost. He doesn't stop walking, though, which is good 'cause you're not planning on doing that either. "Where're we going?" 

"I—dunno." You probably _should_ stop. "Cronus—he was playing around—found some shit—" 

"Yeah, I saw. Figured it was your bro." 

"You—how?" How the hell would he know? Oh god, you didn't break the computer, Cronus kept watching the damn thing to see why the hell you flipped the fuck out, he _saw_ you— 

"Shit, kid." Jack's voice goes rough with what sounds like anger but you read as concern; you can't exactly back that guess up with visual confirmation, because apparently you've just hit the exact level of panic and exertion that makes your body go _we need oxygen to function, dumbass._ Like, your vision finally goes whitish-grey and you almost-not-quite stumble and fall. 

The only reason that it _is_ an almost-not-quite thing is that Jack grabs your shoulder, steps up close enough for you to lean on him. He doesn't try to pull you closer or anything, doesn't try to force you to hold still and stay out here with him, which is. Uh. A relief. 

For a minute you just focus on breathing. Not all that easy when your brain still insists that you're about to fucking suffocate. Jack stands there patiently for that minute (or however long it is; you can't think beyond counting your heartbeat to measure your breathing by it) pretty much holding you up and (thankfully) not saying anything. 

When you finally quit gasping like a beached fish, he moves to wrap an arm around your shoulders, nodding back up the street. "Home, or nah?" 

"Uh..." That question should not be this fucking hard. "I think I wanna just. Sit down for a minute." 

Jack just nods, sitting down on the sidewalk (or whatever the fuck the trolls'd call it; it's the section meant for pedestrian traffic but honestly it takes up more space than the main road) and pulling you down beside him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, you lean into him, and you try not to think about the possibility of somebody walking by and asking you what the fuck your problem is. Not thinking about shit's actually easier than it used to be...although you do close your eyes the fucking second that you see a girl with short, hooked horns pause glance at you as she walks by. 

She does ask something, but it's in Alternian, and you still understand that language barely at all. Like, you think it's a question, but you don't catch any words. You're fairly sure it's directed at you or Jack, though. 

Jack answers her, a couple sentences in the same language, adding, "She wants to know if you're okay." 

Fuck, you're _so_ not up for talking to somebody you don't even know. Instead, you open your eyes, look up at her, and give her a thumb's-up. Wait, shit, does that mean the same thing to trolls as it does to humans? 

She grins back, flashing sharp teeth, and mirrors the gesture. Okay, yeah, it does. Good. 

Jack makes a rough noise deep in his chest, as she walks away. "Too bad you didn't grow up here, instead of on Earth."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. That vindictive piece of shit wouldn't've lasted a week before someone ripped his head off." The rough noise resolves into something like a growl, for a second, then recedes back to that low-level rumble. "I told Dualscar to get Hal on that shit, before I came after you." 

Ah, shit, is he pissed at Hal? "He did his best, Jack, you can't blame him for missing—" 

"He didn't miss a damn thing, kid. That vid went up three weeks ago." 

"How—oh _fuck,_ he got out." That has to be the answer. It's not an answer you _want_ —god, Bro getting out of prison is the last thing you want to think about because if he's not locked up you _know_ he can just fucking disappear. If he wants to not be found, he won't be, not even by Hal or Sollux, and you'll never fucking see him coming for you. He can't post videos if he's in jail, so he's out, and you're— 

"Dave." Jack's hand tightening on your arm is what snaps your attention back to him, not him saying your name. He's said some other stuff in the time since you stopped talking, you're pretty sure he did, but you didn't hear any of it. "Kid, it's okay—" 

"No, fuck no, it's not, if he's—" 

"He's a vindictive bastard. Either he set the videos to repost at intervals, or he's got somebody putting them up for him." Jack sighs, that rumbling growl almost fading for a second. "You're okay, kid. Safe. He's not getting near you." 

Oh. That...yeah, that makes sense. Bro's good with coding, and better with traps, and this shit's definitely got the marks of the kind of trap he'd set for you back at home. No—noy back at home, home is the hive with Jack and whichever troll kids end up sleeping over, home is _here_. The traps were back in Texas. Back in that fucking apartment. 

You don't know why you still think of it as home sometimes. 

But speaking of home... "Jack?" 

"Yeah." 

"Let's go?" 

"Yeah." Again, he's faster to get to his feet than you can manage, and he pulls you up as well. "I called Vantas to come over." 

"Shit, seriously?" The knowledge that Karkat's gonna be waiting for you (or at least end up in the same place pretty damn soon) shoves a fucking weight off your chest. Fuck, but you love him... "Dude, you're like, the best dad ever." 

Jack just snorts, but you can see him smiling. "C'mon, kid. Let's get you back home."


End file.
